


put it together

by ninefish



Series: if i stay here, trouble will find me [5]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy
Genre: Anakin Skywalker-centric, Anakin self-actualizing wow, Gen, bullshitting mechanics
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-24
Updated: 2020-07-24
Packaged: 2021-03-05 05:07:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,374
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25478881
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ninefish/pseuds/ninefish
Summary: Anakin liked fixing problems. He was good at it, ever since he was a kid. What was one more, even if it was a planet?
Relationships: Satine Kryze & Anakin Skywalker
Series: if i stay here, trouble will find me [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1719697
Comments: 6
Kudos: 122





	put it together

**Author's Note:**

> Note!! This is a part of my AU where Obi-Wan went to Mandalore post-TPM & most of the character dynamics will probably make 0 sense if you haven't read the main fic!! 
> 
> This fic will hopefully make more sense when I post the CW-era fic of the AU :,) until then, enjoy Anakin being a snarky teenager.
> 
> Title is from Langhorne Slim’s “put it together” :)

Anakin liked fixing problems. He was good at it, ever since he was a kid. Ani, the engine’s in need of a scrubbing; Ani, this exhaust port’s shot to hell. And, well, if this problem happened to be an entire planet . . . .

In addition to the perk of  _ not  _ being beaten for not cooperating, Anakin had learned a long time ago that fixing things and having people owe you favors wasn’t a bad place to be.

So when the Duchess of Mandalore had approached Anakin, a thirteen-year-old just trying to be a reasonably well-behaved Padawan with her offer, he’d looked to Master Windu with one eye and shook her hand in greeting. He then used his other eye to stare at Obi-Wan in disbelief because, sure, Anakin had been enamored by Padmé as a boy who had never seen the world beyond his dusty periphery, but not even that was enough to wash away all of the other feelings that had weighed him down. He hadn’t really expected Obi-Wan, of all people, to get snarred up by a  _ Duchess _ . So much for I-hate-politics-and-everyone-that-associates-with-them.

Looking back on those last days on Tatooine, Anakin shuddered to think of how large of a gamble Master Qui-Gon had made on him being able to win the pod-race. Regardless of what part the Force had in it, Anakin had made it out of that planet with his own podracer, his  _ own  _ hands. 

No teenaged Queen from a water-rich world like Naboo could have dictated the outcome of that race.

Though Anakin supposed Duchess Satine Kryze  _ was _ quite pretty.

Needless to say, Anakin was good at solving problems.

“You’re not actually entrusting me, a  _ thirteen-year-old _ with restructuring your planet, right?” Anakin confirmed, scrolling through the survey report the Duchess had given him.

“Of course not,” she waved off his concern, smile lines forming easily around her eyes. “I have a committee that just would like to take into account any ideas you have.”

Anakin raised an eyebrow skeptically, the question about his age silently repeating.

“I thought since you had grown up on Tatooine, where there’s a sizable sector that’s developed for water catchment on an arid planet, you could have some valuable feedback,” Obi-Wan cut in, a bit hesitant. “The Hutts aren’t precisely giving with the management of their systems.”

Anakin looked back down at the datapad, swallowing down the sudden lump in his throat. Data readings of mineral prospecting. Granite, gravel, sand. “Yeah, well, they didn’t really sell me their trade secrets as a slave, either, you know,” he deadpanned. 

“But surely you know some things? Obi has told me that you’re an extraordinary mechanic— I’ve heard you built R4? She has been such a help, too,” the Duchess said sincerely. Anakin felt his ears burn a little. Hell, okay, he wasn’t  _ easy _ — any person who worked in craftsmanship appreciated  _ appreciation _ , Anakin justified to himself. He could feel himself melting underneath the Duchess’ earnest blue gaze.

He locked eyes with Obi-Wan instead, silently mouthing  _ Obi _ incredulously. Obi-Wan rolled his eyes in exasperation and made a  _ get on with it _ gesture. Oh, he was going to have so much fun with  _ that _ .

Anakin told himself it was because the Duchess had called R4 by her gendered pronoun. Hadn’t just dismissed her as something  _ other _ . And any creator was fond of his makings.

Anakin cleared his throat, closing the datapad, having not really looked too thoroughly at the plans. “Right, I’ll help, then, Duchess.”

“Thank you,” the Duchess beamed. “And please, call me Satine.” She offered a hand.

Anakin shook it again, a faint smile on his face. He always did like a good puzzle.

He then turned to Obi-Wan and mouthed  _ Obi _ again. For good measure.

* * *

Anakin spread the holo-map before himself. “Alright, show me the regional atmospheric moisture content from across the planet.”

Most of the larger water plants around the planet had apparently been destroyed in the civil war. Anakin couldn’t really relate to any sort of society that had then, in the rebuilding after the war on a desert planet, would only minimally rebuild its water resources. No matter what any uppity official said,  _ water _ was always the most important thing on a desert planet. Anakin scoffed, this was why politicians  _ sucked. _

Not to mention that the plants that were being used were essentially larger scale models of the generic vaporators used by even the most basic of moisture farmers on Tatooine. Anakin rolled his eyes and pulled up the blueprints. 

This was the sort of stuff he daydreamed of in the lulls of a workday. Except on Tatooine, he’d never had the means to flesh out his ideas— it was one thing to scrape together a droid, but vaporators tended to, literally, need to be air-tight.

* * *

“Oh, I’m not sure if you’ve looked at the whole of the report yet, but I noted that we’ve begun mass farming produce on Concordia, one of Mandalore’s moons,” Satine offered. “Is that of any use to you or . . .” she trailed off.

Anakin hummed from over his worktable, where the schematics for a newer, more efficient version of the vaporator plant projected. He adjusted one of the pipes. No need to make a pump when they could just let gravity work for them.

“All due respect, Satine, but as good as your moon is, we need to focus on Mandalore’s on-planet resources,” Anakin said.

She frowned, leaning against the wall, “that’s hardly fair. We fought hard to stabilize the situation there, shouldn’t we use it to the fullest potential?”

The Duchess had the sort of voice that was able to raise objection in a thoughtful, unassuming manner. The question was hardly a critique, and yet it still irked him.

“That’s great, but it doesn’t change that you’re not using your own planet to its fullest potential,” Anakin said flatly. He breathed slowly. Right, Duchess of said planet. He could hear Obi-Wan chiding him on tact in his mind. 

“Okay,” he offered, “it’s true that— Concordia, you said? — has a better base environment. It’s been able to recover from the deforestation and has historically been shielded from most solar irregularities by Mandalore. But it’s those solar storms that are the precise problem— what are you going to do if they knock out communications temporarily, make interplanetary transport with large shuttles unstable?”

Anakin relaxed his hands that had unconsciously made fists before him. Satine noticed.

“I know a lot of people who have died because their own tools have given out on them. Because they thought an external support system would come in but nothing  _ does _ ,” he finally said quietly. “Mandalore  _ needs _ to become self-sustainable. If your committee really wants my advice, which, really— a  _ thirteen-year-old _ — I’d tell them that you need to be able to provide for yourself.”

It was always the people who had never had to be at risk that didn’t think of the possibilities. Most of the younger generations of Mandalorians, what with their domed cities that protected them against their sun, had never considered such structural concerns. From the reports he’d been given, most of the citizens probably got their water from a tap, not realizing the work that had gone into getting those precious drops.

Anakin smiled wryly, “of course, trade will factor in.” Anakin blinked and saw rows of people beneath his eyelids, beneath scorching twin suns.  _ Trade _ . “But Mandalore should be able to manage basics— water. Agriculture will follow.” At the very least, Mos Espa had a booming mushroom bargaining market.

Satine slowly nodded, an unreadable look in her eyes. “I understand. Thank you, Anakin.” She gave a smile that looked strained, “you’ve given me much to think on. And I’m sure you’re busy. Thank you.”

Anakin watched the door for a bit after she’d left. Huh. That was less of a fight than he’d expected. 

He turned back to his worktable. Back to facts and figures, precise angles and measurements. Mechanics and physics were nice— they had indisputable facts that could then be translated to the world. Anakin had his own facts he’d made of the world as well.

Fact one, politicians were blind, selfish mongrels that just reveled in power over other people.

Fact two, but maybe Duchess Satine wasn’t too bad.


End file.
